


The Voters Would Like to See You in Shorts

by inabathrobe



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Little Britain parody, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:52:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabathrobe/pseuds/inabathrobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Dreiberg is president.  Rorschach is his belligerent aide.  This is the worst utopia. (Based on the prime minister and Sebastian sketches in Little Britain.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Voters Would Like to See You in Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted on the Kink Meme.](http://spam-monster.livejournal.com/3498.html?thread=9945514#t9945514)

There was something rather peculiar about his new senior aide. It wasn't that the fellow wasn't good at his job (he was extraordinarily effective, in fact); there was just something— off. He couldn't put his finger on it. Although the man had a tendency to dress with a certain panache, Dan was inured to panache. Dan was _married_ to panache. (Dan's marriage to panache often claimed it was the reason why Dan had gotten elected despite all obvious logic to the contrary.) There was still something a little arresting about pinstripe trousers at the office.

Although he had been elected on an exceedingly liberal platform in a flurry of hope and high spirits despite the continuing fragility of the economy, the country was beginning to lose its flush of pride at electing a presidential first. In response, his team had decided it might be beneficial to bring in a few more conservative voices. Dan wasn't sure who had thought that this particular conservative voice was a good choice, but his dedication was certainly admirable.

"Could you read me the results of the opinion polls?" Dan, leaning back in his chair in the office that he had dreamed about ever since he was a little boy, steeled himself for a reminder that America wouldn't love him forever. The numbers had been in a slump for months; it was hardly news.

"Don't think you should be standing for this, sir?"

Dan looked up. "Oh, no, this is fine. You can take a seat if you like." He gestured at the chair across the desk. "And please call me Dan. Really, we're very informal here." He had been struggling to create a friendly atmosphere ever since they had introduced fresh blood. The remnants of his campaign staff were entirely comfortable with him, but the others had been more resistant.

His aide huffed. "Fine here." He stood defiantly next to Dan, posed dramatically with the paper in hand.

Dan sighed. There was no reasoning with the man. "Go on, then."

"The Gallup numbers, sir— Hem. Sixty-four percent approval rating. Reported slight decrease in unemployment. Economic confidence and perception of economic outlook still dropping. Consumer spending slightly up. Standard of living up. Perception of happiness up."

"Not bad, not bad." Dan hit the desk. "We're doing pretty well, I'd say. All things considered."

A pointed cough. "Three out of four voters feel family values are not important to president, sir."

"What is the exact statistic, Walter?"

"Seventy-four percent feel that family values are either 'not that important' or 'not important at all' to you, sir," Walter growled.

Dan had recently come to dread doing numbers for this particular reason: Walter made no secret of his feelings about Dan's lifestyle. Dan's so-called lifestyle involved a single loving partner and a pet cat with whom he spent most evenings at home. Although he had been targeted by the conservative media during his run for governor for being a notably confirmed bachelor, he had resolved that with an expensive, well-attended, highly publicized society wedding. The conservative pundits had said it would end his political career.

Dan was the President of the United States. The conservative pundits could suck it.

"I'm a newly-wed for goodness' sake! I know all _about_ family values."

A raised eyebrow from Walter. "Voters feel otherwise, sir."

"Oh, call me Dan, goddammit. Look, get someone to play up that aspect. We'll do an interview for a bridal magazine or something."

A grunt. "Of course. Will have Marjorie on it immediately."

Dan nodded, scribbling down a note or two. "Oh, good. Now, while I don't want to seem like I'm trying to patch up the economy instead of solving the problem, I think that it's—"

Both men looked up in surprise when the door opened. "Dan, we're running late."

Dan looked up. He swallowed, took off his glasses, rubbed them clean, and put them back on again. "You look lovely, dear."

"Thank you." Prim, sharp, public. "I brought your suit. It's not as frumpy as you like, but you'll be the only one who minds." Depositing the suit on the back of the chair that Walter was defiantly not occupying, he posed himself neatly on the sofa, demurely crossing his legs.

"Have you met Walter?" Dan rose, approaching his suit with no little trepidation.

"Oh, I don't think so. A pleasure." He rose from the sofa and offered his hand. Walter did not move to accept it. "Adrian," he added, "Adrian Veidt." As though there was anyone who didn't know who he was.

"Yes."

Dan looked from his aide to his husband, frozen in the tableau that he had grown accustomed to finding Adrian in. There was something about purple suits that seemed to put off most politicians, although Adrian was almost always the most successful person in the room. "Well, I think I'd better— Well. Um. I'll just—" Dan gestured to the suit. He smiled hopefully at Walter. Oh, God, please _leave_.

"Three out of four. Daniel." And, with that, Walter begrudgingly exited. At least, they were making some sort of progress.

"Isn't he delightful?"

Dan began to undress, knowing that any sort of reticence about stripping in his office would only result in a reprimand about being proud of who he was. "He's good at what he does, Adrian."

"Look, I can find you ten equally qualified candidates who aren't going to look at me like I'm some sort of monster—"

"You are not on my staff." Adrian bit his lip and looked away. "Keep that pun to yourself, you monster."

"Oh, call me Medusa, _Daniel_."

Looking away from the pair of trousers that he was endeavoring to put on, Dan said, "Could you try not to make that sound like an innuendo?" The First Gentleman huffed. (They had run through a number of soubriquets between the election and the inauguration and this was the only one that everyone had been able to agree on, although the press retained "the First Lady" for moments of particular consternation.)

Adrian continued to split his time between duties as the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and as the White House host(ess). It was an uneven, hectic balance, but the aide who had had the audacity to suggest that Adrian allow someone else to run Veidt Industries in order to conform better to the traditional conception of the president and first lady had lost his job. There were also rumors that he had been deported, but that was mere office gossip. Nevertheless, it was the last meeting that anyone had invited Adrian to.

"Sorry."

"How do I look?" Dan asked, fussing with hems and seams and trying to see that everything lined up properly.

"Splendid," Adrian replied. "Also, like a man who doesn't know how to put on a pair of cufflinks." Dan swore. "No, I'll do it. Give me your hand."

Crossing to the sofa, Dan did as he was told, offering an offending cuff. "Hhhf— Adrian, I thought you said we were running late." Enormous sad eyes looked up at him, asking if he was really angry that these fingers had happened to end up in Adrian's mouth. "I bet Jackie never did this when JFK was trying to get to important state functions on time."

"Yes, and that is probably why he fucked Marilyn Monroe." Adrian fastened the other cufflink. "Also, it's a charity gala and _my_ charity gala to boot, so stop your fussing."

"You hate being late."

"I also hate creases, dogs, and rude homophobic redheads."

"I'm not firing him, Adrian."

"I'm not going to be insulted every time I walk in here."

"It happened once. Maybe, he just needs time to adjust."

"Of course."

"Sometimes, I have to make compromises! We need a few conservative opinions and—"

"Yes, well, welcome to Camelot." Adrian gave Dan the look that said that he was too nice for his own good and escorted him out of the Oval Office.


End file.
